Best Eaten Cold
by TheFirstMrsHummel
Summary: Kurt is back at McKinley and unfortunately, Dave is up to his old tricks again.  Warnings:  SPOILERS IN THE A/N! BEWARE!  This story is EXTREMELY angsty.  No Kurtofsky smut or romance.  Rated M mostly for Santana's potty mouth.
1. Chapter 1

_**Apparently, the lack of Dave on Glee has turned my muse into a total emo teenager, because she's refusing to send anything fluffy or Kurtofsky-romance related to my brain. I'm certainly hoping for some encouraging spoilers or maybe some good stuff when the show comes back, so she'll get out of this funk. In the meantime, have some angst. It's obviously all she's good for these days :P Just a warning that Kurt is downright cruel to Dave in this story (though not, I think, undeservedly so), so if that sort of thing isn't your cup of tea, you might want to turn back now. And Dave's no hero in this one either. And to make it a triple cluster-f*ck, there's mild Klaine in here too. What is my life?**_

_**I don't like to torture my boys, I swear, and I hope that I'll be back to writing non-stop smut and lovely-dovey Kurtofsky as soon as possible. It's not exactly wonderful seeing all this stuff in my head, believe me. :(**_

_**This story is based on the spoiler that Dave will slushy Santana at some point, and the following spoiler from an interview with Corey (Finn) about the upcoming Born This Way episode:**_

_**TV Guide Magazine:**__** Judging by the title, I'm guessing this is the episode in which homophobic **__**Karofsky**__** finally comes to terms with who he is?**__**  
**__**Cory**__**:**__** For sure, and there's a little blackmail involved. It gets kind of heavy.**_

On his first day back at McKinley, Kurt told himself that he was ready for anything. He didn't want to be there, but sadly, the amount of money one put away for a Hawaiian honeymoon turned out to not quite be enough for even a full year's tuition at Dalton. His mom and dad had just taken out a new mortgage for the larger house, and while Burt's garage wasn't exactly struggling, he wasn't making nearly the kind of income required to send your kid to Kurt's former school. He knew they felt terrible about him having to go back into the lion's den, but there was no other choice, and Kurt wasn't going to make them feel guilty or bad about something that couldn't be helped.

Although one would think running into Dave Karofsky again might be his biggest worry, he wasn't nearly as terrified as he thought he'd be. For one thing, his confidence had been soaring since he and Blaine had started dating. He felt loved and appreciated, and it gave him a little warm bubble of contentment that he carried around with himself constantly. And everyone knew bullies preyed the most viciously on those who wore their vulnerability and fear on their sleeve. So there was that. But mostly, it was because his dad had taken it upon himself to call Paul Karofsky last week and have a little chat about what would be expected of Karofsky upon Kurt's return to school. Burt had informed Paul that if Kurt came home with so much as one tiny bruise, or tale of being terrorized by Karofsky, he was going beyond the school to the police and having a restraining order taken out on Paul's son. Burt shared his feelings that any colleges scouting Karofsky might not be that excited about finding out that the kid had a violent history. Paul had agreed; even though he and his wife had gotten Dave's's expulsion reversed, his dad had never been convinced that he'd gotten anything approaching the whole story from his son. So he promised Burt that he would talk to Dave, and make it clear that he was expected to stay as far away from Kurt as humanly possible. Kurt didn't fool himself that it would be anything that would last, but he figured it might be enough to get Karofsky to lay off him for a while. There were only 10 weeks left in the school year, so maybe the threat, combined with his own attempts to avoid running into his bully, could see him through without any major physical or emotional trauma. He was sure he'd take some abuse and plenty of slushying from the other jocks, but he figured if he could go home at the end of the day and cuddle with Blaine it would be somehow tolerable in the short term.

But what Kurt didn't realize was that, due to events that had transpired overnight, Kurt was the last person on any McKinley bully's radar that day. This became clear to him when he came across Santana sobbing her eyes out in a remote janitor's closet, covered with slushy residue. Kurt had only come across her because he was trying to take the most roundabout way to his classes, in case Burt's threat hadn't worked and Karofsky started stalking him again. To say he was surprised was an understatement. He hadn't been aware that Santana was even capable of tears, let alone the gut-wrenching ones tearing out of her chest. Kurt approached her gently, not wanting to startle her. She'd never been one of his favorite people, and had been downright mean about his sexuality and effeminate qualities plenty of times. But this broken girl didn't even seem like the same person, so he decided it was worth blowing off his Trig class to try and help her. He kneeled close and spoke softly. "Santana? Are you okay?"

She opened up her eyes and Kurt blanched at the misery and fear in them. He'd seen that same look in his own mirror way too many times to count earlier in the school year, and it made his chest ache with empathy. Santana tried to answer him, tears streaming from her wide eyes, but couldn't seem to make any words come out. Kurt edged closer and took her hand with his, reaching into his messenger bag with the other for the starched handkerchiefs he always carried. He offered her a couple, making soothing noises, and she began to calm a little as she wiped her face. "Thanks," she managed to choke out.

"What happened?" he asked. When she rolled her teary eyes at him, he continued. "I mean, I can see you got slushied. But why? Even though you're in glee, they never went after you before. Is it because you're not a Cheerio anymore?"

Santana looked at him in disbelief. "You mean you don't know? It's all over the school," she said in a voice made gravely from crying.

"No, I've been trying to lay low and keep moving. What happened, Santana?" he asked again.

Her pretty face crumpled. "They found out about me. Everyone did. I wrote Brittany a letter, but she must have dropped it. Or someone must have stolen it from her."

The hair on the back of Kurt's neck stood up. He'd sometimes gotten a _vibe_ from Brittany and Santana when they were together, but always in a Katy Perry or Girls Gone Wild kind of way. Certainly nothing serious. But it sure as hell looked serious at the moment. "What…" Kurt cleared the lump that had suddenly settled in his throat, and tried again. "What did the letter say, Santana?"

"What do you think?" she burst out. "You, Kurt, of all people should know. Aren't other gays supposed to have the best gaydar?" Santana gave a wet , humorless laugh. "I wrote that I loved her. That I wanted to be with her, and that if she would just leave Artie we could be together. I wrote that she was the most beautiful thing in my life, and that she's the only one out of _everyone_ I've fucked that I've actually had a real orgasm with. Shit, I don't even have to tell you about it. Just take out your iPhone and bring up that fucker Ben-Israel's blog."

Kurt stared at Santana as she continued, having no idea what to say. What had happened to him was terrible, but this was beyond his worst imaginings. Being outed like that had to be the most awful thing that he could imagine, and he felt tears prick his own eyes at the girl's anguish. "I don't even care that they know we had sex. It's no big deal, I mean, most guys get off on that shit. Two hot cheerleaders scissoring and eating each other's pussies? It's what the porn industry was built on, for Christ's sake. But that's not what I wrote about, Kurt. I wrote about what I was feeling with my heart, not my body. We could sell out the auditorium if we sold tickets for people to watch Britt and I fuck each other. But the minute they know it's more than that, it's not so fucking hot anymore, I guess. It's disgusting, and perverted." She barked out a sob. "And wrong."

"It's not-" started Kurt, but she cut him off sharply.

"It is to them, Kurt," she said. "_We're_ wrong, because of who we love. And they _hate_ us for it." She took a deep breath. "Right before that fuckwad Karofsky slushied me, I could see it in his eyes. How much he hated me."

The minute the name came out of Santana's mouth, Kurt felt like someone had doused _him_ with an ice cold slushy. But it was quickly replaced by a burning in his stomach that soon radiated to every corner of his being. The rage was so intense, it was as if he was seeing things through a haze of red for the moment. In a deadly quiet voice, he said, "Karofsky was the one who threw the slushy?"

"Yeah," Santana sniffed. "He said, 'Let's see if this gets you as wet as fucking another _girl _does, dyke'. Then he tossed it in my face and walked off, laughing."

"He wasn't in a group?" asked Kurt. "It was just him?"

Santana looked at him funny, as if she couldn't figure out what difference that made. She shrugged. "Just him. One single giant, homophobic asshole."

It had been one thing when Kurt thought Karofsky's more vicious, independent bullying was just against him. Sure, a lot of it was because he was gay and Karofsky was so horribly closeted and filled with self-loathing. But he also figured it had a lot to do with the fact that the other boy was attracted to him, and probably hated that more than anything. Targeting Santana the same way he'd done with Kurt, though? That was just…so fucked up there were no words for it. He had to put a stop to this; he simply could not live in a world where Dave Karofsky abused every other gay kid he came across, just because he couldn't handle the fact that he found penis compelling. _Just because you're gay yourself, doesn't mean it's not a hate crime_, thought Kurt.

Before he could figure out what to do about Karofsky, though, he wanted to make sure Santana was okay. So he put his anger aside for the moment and focused on her. Smiling, and wiping at one of her fresh tears, he began to sing. _Every day is so wonderful. And suddenly, it's hard to breathe. Now and then, I get insecure from all the pain. I'm so ashamed… _

Santana smiled back at him. Just a little, but it was there. She started to sing too. _I am beautiful, no matter what they say. Words can't bring me down…_

By the time they finished the song, Santana had stopped crying, and was ready to try and wash the red dye out of her blouse and hair. And Kurt Hummel had a plan for stopping Dave Karofsky's homophobic bullshit once and for all.


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, it would have to be the same damn locker room.

Burt's threat and whatever discussion Paul Karofsky had had with his son were apparently quite effective, because in the week that Kurt had been back at McKinley, he'd barely caught sight of the other boy. Since Kurt had stopped skulking around, he'd passed Karofsky in the hallway a few times, but Karofsky always lowered his eyes and picked up his pace, as if to pass Kurt as quickly as possible. Kurt didn't like the idea of outright stalking Karofsky (it was just too weird to contemplate), but it looked like it was the only way he was going to be able to have the privacy to put his plan into action.

He'd talked to Blaine about it, and his boyfriend was the only one who knew what Kurt was planning. He hadn't even told Santana. Blaine was extremely unhappy about Kurt's idea; not only did he think it might be dangerous if it backfired, the whole thing was just completely distasteful to him. Kurt had pointed out, though, that it wasn't how he wanted things, either. But something had to be done, and Kurt just didn't see any other way of forcing Karofsky's hand. Blaine had been disappointed, Kurt knew, but understanding. "You're the one who's stuck there, Kurt," Blaine said, kissing the back of his hand gently. "I have to trust that you know what you're doing. Just please, be careful." Kurt had melted into Blaine's embrace, assuring him that as awful as what he had to do was, the end result would be worth it.

So that was how Kurt found himself lurking outside the locker room before Karofsky's gym period. He had finally figured out why Karofsky showed up ridiculously early for gym and football practice. As closeted as he was, it was likely a good idea to reduce the amount of time he spent around other undressed guys. Kurt figured he had at least fifteen minutes, maybe more, before anyone else showed. So as soon as he saw Karofsky enter the locker room, and heard the bang of his locker opening, he slipped inside as well.

It was like déjà vu all over again. Karofsky, hauling his ratty sneakers out of the locker, momentarily oblivious. And Kurt, filled with anger, ready to confront his enemy, rather than running and hiding. He crept up to the open door of the locker and stood behind it. Karofsky slammed it shut, and Kurt was quite satisfied to see the larger boy nearly jump out of his skin when he saw Kurt standing there. "What the fuck are you doing here, Hummel?" he asked, and Kurt was further pleased to hear the unsure note in Karofsky's voice. He'd definitely caught Karofsky off-guard, which could only help things along.

"We need to talk," said Kurt calmly, his tone belaying his thumping heart.

"I'm not supposed to be around you," said Karofsky dismissively. "Get lost."

"Not until I've had my say," Kurt said coldly. "And believe me, you want to let me get on with it before anyone else shows up to hear me talking."

There was fear in Karosky's eyes, but he tried to bluff. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the locker. "Be my guest, homo," he said.

With no warning, Kurt's palm shot out, and landed on the locker with a loud bang that had Karofsky jumping even more than the first time. Kurt narrowed his eyes, letting the rage seep in. All the ruined clothes. The meals he couldn't eat because of constant nausea from fear. The nightmares, and having to leave all his friends behind. And he thought about Santana, high bitch diva supreme, brought down into the dirt because the asshole in front of him had called her a dyke. "For starters," he said, staring into Dave's suddenly wide eyes, "you're going to stop with the hate speech." He ticked off on his long, slender fingers. "Homo. Faggot. Queer. Dyke. They all end, starting now. Do you get me, Karofsky?"

Dave recovered his bravado a bit after a moment, shaking his head to remind himself that this was only Hummel threatening him. The scared little queer who'd run off crying to some gay Hogwarts because Dave had picked on him. He tried to ignore the voice that told him he'd done a lot more than pick on Kurt. That voice told him all kinds of things he didn't want to hear, from _Jesus, that dude's ass is fine_ to _Maybe you could join glee and it wouldn't be the end of the world_. Dave had gotten pretty good at ignoring that voice. "And why would I want to do that?" he sneered.

This was it. Kurt focused his anger until it was a fine point of white hot fury. It was the only way he could make the words come out of his mouth, and follow through with what he had to do. He took his hand off the locker and pressed it against Karofsky's chest. "Because if you don't?" he said, letting his anger seep through clearly in his voice. "I will tell _everyone_ what you did to me in this locker room."

"I didn't-" Dave started, denial always, _always_ his first response to even the very thought of that day so many months ago.

"Shut up," said Kurt. "There's no one here but you and me, and we both know what happened. You kissed me. You forced it on me. And after you did it once, you leaned in and tried to do it again. You would have kissed me plenty more, if I hadn't pushed you away."

Dave was glad that he had the support of the lockers at his back, because his knees were trembling and threatening to give out. _No_, he tried to convince himself. _That's not exactly how it happened_. Except of course, that it was. And Kurt would just not stop talking about it.

"You wanted me to kiss you back. Maybe you even wanted me to throw my arms around you, and tell you I wanted you, too. As if!" Kurt said, spitefully.

"Stop it!" cried Dave, hating how his voice cracked, and tears began to sting his eyes.

If there was ever a moment that Kurt thought of abandoning the plan, this one where Karofsky's plaintative cry seared his ears, brain and heart was it. He hated, just hated doing this. But it wasn't about him, or even Santana. It was about every other gay boy or girl that was going to be spared the outward expression of Karofsky's self- loathing, at least until graduation. There was no right to be had in the situation, just greater and lesser degrees of wrongness.

Kurt took his hand off of Karofsky's chest, backing up a step. He stared at Karofsky, willing himself to have the courage to continue. "You're a bully," he said. "and a coward, and a hypocrite. I can't do anything about the last two, but I can sure as shit do something about the first." He made sure Karofsky made eye contact with him before continuing. "No more abuse, Karofsky. No more slushies, or locker slams, or name calling. Not to anyone gay, straight or halfway in between. It's over. I don't care what you tell your fellow Neanderthals. You can tell them that your Dad's on the verge of sending you to military school, or that you've found Jesus, or whatever. But if I even hear a whisper that you're back up to your old tricks, I'm going to Jacob Ben-Israel and giving him the scoop of the century. David Karofsky, total jock, manly-man and homophobe? He's 100% homosexual, and as into dick as I ever _imagined_ being."

Ice sliding down his spine, Dave tried for one last attempt to regain the upper hand. "No one would believe you," he said shakily.

Blaine had said exactly the same thing. So Kurt told Karofsky what he'd told his boyfriend. "Sure they would. Especially once Jacob starts digging. Because it's not like I'm _lying_. I'm sure if he asks around enough, he'll be able to find some girls that you tried to be straight with, only to find that you couldn't quite, uh…rise to the occasion." Kurt knew he'd hit that nail on the head when he saw how quickly the blood drained from Karofsky's face. He tried not to think about how sick it made him, and continued. "Or maybe a boy or two who caught you looking a little more than allowable by the guy code in the showers. And I'm sure if anyone were to get a hold of your laptop, the browser history would be extraordinarily revealing."

Karofsky snapped. He grabbed Kurt by the shoulders and slammed him up against the opposite lockers. Kurt was sure that Karofsky was going to _literally_ kill him this time; but then Karofsky's face fell and he shoved himself away from Kurt. After a moment, he looked up at Kurt, defeat plain on his face and in his posture. "Fine," he said listlessly. "You win." And with that, he shuffled out of the locker room.

The moment the doors slammed shut behind Karofsky, Kurt felt his gorge rise. He just made it to the toilets before falling to his knees and vomiting up the little bit of lunch he'd been able to consume earlier. When he was finally finished, he braced his forearms across the bowl and rested his sweaty forehead on them.

Kurt hoped with everything he had in him that he'd made the right decision.

_**I know, I know! Angsty story is angsty! All I can say is that I've finally written something that I fervently hope I *never* see on the show. Reviews are appreciated, but kindness even more so. I have to admit, I'm a little shaky after writing/posting this one.**_


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